


tastes good on you

by keeper0fthestars



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Food Play, I'm Not Ashamed, Suggestive Themes, Teasing, and beer, swimsuits and sunshine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeper0fthestars/pseuds/keeper0fthestars
Summary: Frankie likes you in a swimsuit. Really likes you in a swimsuit.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Original Female Character(s), Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You, Frankie Morales x Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	tastes good on you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rowena1701](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowena1701/gifts).



The afternoon heat hangs like a blanket over Frankie’s secluded backyard. Springsteen croons from an old speaker along the back of the house where there's still some shade to be had. Something about hearts being hungry. Resting on a sun lounger with your eyes closed, you’re happy and relaxed and slightly buzzed from Frankie’s endless supply of beer. 

Limbs heavy, you desperately need to cool off and you contemplate a dip in his pool but the heat is making you lazy and getting up just takes too much fucking effort right now. Especially when the sound of ice clinking behind you tells you Frankie is rummaging through the cooler for a fresh one. 

A moment later, a ring of ice touches your bare thigh and you flinch, eyes flying open to see your boyfriend standing over you in his shiny black aviators, bare from the waist up. On your skin sits an icy bottle of beer from the bottom of his cooler. The initial shock wears off and you welcome the cold on your overheated skin. Shading your eyes from the sun with one hand, you admire the size of him. Wide shoulders and solid arms, sun-kissed from spending his days off at the beach or here with you. The softly curved planes of his chest scattered with dark hair trailing in swirls down his abdomen and disappearing beneath the waistband of his swim shorts.

Casting a shadow over you, he bends forward, bracing his weight on the arm of your chair and he plants a soft kiss on your mouth, grazing your cheek with his tousled hair, still damp from the pool. Grateful, you take the beer which leaves his hand, thoroughly chilled from the bottle, free to roam. All five fingertips follow the shape of your halter top, dragging underneath each supple curve. Teasing. Shameless. A brand new flush of heat washes across your skin. He can't keep his hands off you and you preen under his attention. His lips catch on the angle of your jaw and you yield to the weight of his mouth, pliant and sluggish. 

"You look thirsty, babe," he breathes, an inch away from your lips. 

"Yes, I am," you hum.

 _But not for beer._ You wonder how much time you have until his buddies get here. If you have time to slide his shorts off and fuck him again.

The lounger is big enough for two so you slide over to make room for him. He settles on the edge and watches you tip it to your parched lips.

You hand the bottle back, only to feel the refreshing cold again, this time on your shoulder. He rolls the bottle across your skin, cold condensation dripping off in little beads and _oh_ it feels like heaven. He lifts it off far too soon, taking a long sip, the bulge in this throat bobbing as he drinks. 

‘Hey’ you protest, ‘that felt good…’ 

'Oh yeah?’ he says, amused, and before you can answer, he leans over and his cold mouth comes in contact with the sun-warmed skin along the deep v of your halter. You shiver against his stubble rasping down the bare swell of your breast, where he leaves behind a single wet mark. 

‘Frankie,’ you whimper, a little breathless, ‘what are you doing.’ 

You’re light-headed all of a sudden and it’s not entirely from the heat of the sun anymore. 

‘Cooling you off.’ He takes another sip, pushing the bottle back into your hands. Those aviators barely hide the single wicked thought occupying his head. How easy it would be to drag the line of your halter aside and uncover a nipple, watch how it would pucker if he licked a splash of beer off of you. 

Instead, he leans and plants another frosted kiss at the edge of the fabric, his tongue warming to your skin as it lingers for a long second afterward. 

Your pulse kicks up another notch.

‘Have I told you how much I love this swimsuit on you?’ 

‘Yeah,’ you grin, teasing, ‘I think you've already said that.’ You shiver again as his dark curls tickle your skin, his chilled mouth, wet and feather-light up the middle of your chest to the slope of your neck. Teeth and scruff scraping, he gently sucks at a delightful spot and your thighs clench involuntarily. Your mouth falls open and God, you’re _distracted,_ your reflexes so very dampened by the previous three beers and whatever’s gotten him so cranked up.

You don’t even notice until it’s too late, the bottle slanting in your clumsy grasp, and you gasp in shock at the cold running down your overheated skin. You manage to stop it before more spills out, but now you're giggling and can’t stop. _‘Frankie... you got me all wet.’_

He sets a knee down between yours and straddles your thigh, boxing you on either side between two sturdy arms, a full-blown smile on his face at the mess you made. 

‘That so,’ his voice drops as does his smile and _fuck._ Yes, you are wet. 

You feel his gaze burn into you as he wets his lips, slow and lazy; the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth like there's something _sinful_ unfolding in his mind. The hidden muscles below your stomach clench hard in response, knowing that if you could see his eyes, they'd be simmering and dark, enough to make your knees buckle if you'd been standing on your feet. The tempting bulge in his shorts is hard to miss.

His chin lifts towards the half-empty bottle in your hand. ‘You gonna save some of that for me?’ 

You grin. 

‘Of course,’ you purr, intent on watching his reaction when you tip the mouth of the bottle, letting the beer pour over the exposed pillowy flesh of your breasts. You don't stop. 

Frankie watches your sharp inhale again at the cold splash, sees how the fabric of your halter clings to your nipples, sees your pebbled wet skin, glistening in the sun, watches the foam gather along the edge of your bottoms, thoroughly soaked now and _dripping._

_‘it’s all for you, Frankie,’_

He growls softly in your ear as he drags his wet fingers along the edge of your bikini, pulling the strings loose. 

_‘Filthy little thing.’_

**Author's Note:**

> I owe this story to [seawhisperer](https://seawhisperer.tumblr.com/), she sent me a wonderful little photo prompt on tumblr and I had a blast writing it. 
> 
> Do I even like beer? No  
> Would I let Frankie lick it off me if given the chance? Heck yes
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this! you can also find [this clown](https://keeper0fthestars.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Thank you for reading!


End file.
